It's her month

It's November 1st... I've been dreading this day for months. This is the the final count down to were all my pain started. November I supposed to be Brittany's month. I should be birthday shopping for her. I should be planning out how to celebrate her birthday with Thanksgiving just the next day. We should be having her start Drivers Ed soon... Maybe it's good for everyone, on this one instance that she isn't taking Drivers Ed! Brittany always had a way of making this HER month. She had an excitement that no one could duplicate. Instead of being excited, I am terrified. Instead of planning a birthday, I trying to plan a remembrance day. When everyone is out having Thanksgiving with cousins and grandparents, we will be eating alone. It is the only way to allow John time to spend remembering Brittany on her birthday, rather than spending the few hours he has after work, traveling.
I also can't think about her birthday without thinking about her being so sick during her last birthday last year. That sickness would eventually get so extreme we would hospitalize her, where she would seize, and be life flighted to Primary Childrens, the place she would end up taking her last breath.
I feel so dumb for being afraid of a month. A month can't talk. A month is just days with a name attached to them. But I am afraid. I am very afraid. I am afraid of what this month holds for me. I am afraid of the pain that I know this month will give to me. I pray for sleep that no longer comes. I pray for peace that I can't seem to find. I pray for the numbness that I felt in the beginning to return, when I know that it won't. I pray that I can hide my feelings from others, even though they can already see it in my eyes. I pray for so many things that I know I just can't have.

She trusted me

I think one of the hardest parts about being a parent to a teenager, is hoping your child will trust you, and come to you at any time they may be in trouble. One hopes that this time of trouble will never happen, but prays that if that time does come, their relationship is strong enough that the child will feel safe enough to ask for help from you.
A year ago tonight, I was able to know that Brittany and I had that strength of relationship. Because of what happened I was able to not only hope Brittany loved and trusted me, I knew it. I was able to see from her that she would come to me in a difficult situation. She would trust me to help her and love her through it. For her, I was able to show her that she would always come first. That I would fight for her, no matter what, and to any extreme. That my love for her would always take priority over anything that this world would throw at us.
At the time I was so upset, so mad, and so hurt for my girl. But now, I'm just grateful for that chance to know that we had that relationship that you always pray you can have with your kids.

Waiting for my real hug

Today I had an appointment right after work that I was rushing out the door to. It was turning stormy so I was looking for a jacket to put on. Being a girl that enjoys "accessorizing" I was looking for my brown jacket that I hadn't worn in a very long time. The last place I remember seeing it was in a coat closet that I don't really ever use. I scrambled through it, and rushed out the door tossing it on as I ran to the car. As I pulled out I felt something prick my wrist. I looked to try to figure out what it was and noticed my inner sleeves were scattered with dry bits of grass and a few thorns from the weeds. Like a wave crashing over me it all came back so sudden... It was this time last year, and Brittany was needing to go to a youth activity. Like the rest of our family always is, she was running late and couldn't find her jacket. Brittany was always very thin and my clothes would drown her out. But I did have one jacket that ties at the waist, so it would probably work. I let her try it on just to make sure, and was impressed at how well it looked on her. It looked so good that I was considering letting her keep it. As she hurried out I remember hoping she would enjoy herself. She wasn't the athletic type at all, and a lot the the activities she went to involved coordination, of which she had very little. She would always feel self conscience during these and worry that she would mess up any team she was on. But she would try and give it her best effort anyway. That night she came home with a big grin on her face, and grass and debris all over. I would have normally been a little upset with her for getting my clothes so dirty, but I was too happy that she had such a good time. I told her to just hang up the jacket for now, we'd wash it later, and to go shower so she could get to bed. In the closet is where it has waited ever since. I have been wearing this jacket the remainder of the evening, knowing her arms were the last ones inside of it. It feels like she is here, embracing me. If only she really could...

Please wake up

My family is very accustomed to going to the doctor. Seems like there is something always going on. You hear this often, but we are seriously not your typical family. We have the most crazy things happen, and we are the kind of family that one of us will get a paper-cut and it will get infected and need surgery to fix it. In the 10 months since Brittany has passed away, we have had to take John into the ER for what we were afraid was a stroke (less than a month after taking Brittany there) Kaitlyn has had to have surgery on a broken leg, and several doctor visits.

Some of these I will post about later, but the most recent "event" was yesterday. My youngest has always had issues with her ears. Because of them, she was quite delayed as a baby. As an example she didn't roll over at all until she was 9 months old. She had tubes put in at 2, but continued to have lots of problems. Yesterday I took her in to have her Adenoids removed and new tubes put in. I was grateful it was being done at the surgical center rather than the hospital. The hospital is still too difficult for me to be able to handle for too long, no matter what area of the hospital I am in. But surgery is still surgery. I was actually doing quite well until we were in the back, getting her prepped. The nurse was going over all the little details and disclaimers they have to warn us about that everyone always tunes out. During this tune out I thought to myself there is always that risk of not waking up... She has to wake up!! What if she doesn't??.... I can't... I CAN'T do this again!!!... I stared at my sweet little girl. She held her fuzzy little blanket she has loved since the day she was born, and clutched tight her "Brittany pillow", with her eyes wide and trusting, trying to understand everything that was being said. In my mind I plead, and begged to her... Please wake up... You can't fall asleep and die.. Please, please! Please wake up for me! She hadn't even laid down yet, and already I was afraid I was going to lose her.

I snapped out of the trance I had put myself in, and forced myself to focus. Just as I did this, the nurse commented on the pillow she had brought with her. So nonchalantly she replied, "oh, my sister died and someone made this for us." For a 7 year old this was all that needed to be said. But what she didn't include was that this pillow was made from the dress we had buried Brittany in. I had cut out the back portion of her dress, so that it wasn't noticeable, and a dear friend used the little bit I could get to make pillows for each of my kids.

These pillows have come to be so precious to us. They continue to rest next to the head of each sleeping child. They are brought to every overnight event. There have been times when it has been forgotten, and as I am about to fall asleep, I hear crying from a daughter because she just can't sleep without it, and has come home to retrieve it. It has become a source of tenderness, and strength.

As I kissed my little girl on her forehead, and they wheeled her back to do their procedure, I fought the tears hoping this wouldn't be my final kiss to my sweet little girl. I watched her little fist grip her pillow. I sat, and I waited. I made the small talk that is expected with other ladies waiting for their little ones as well. My mind was always on my little girl. The relief I felt when I could see into her eyes again, and hear her say my name was overwhelming.

I can never promise my kids that when we go to the doctor they can be fixed and get better. I promised that to Brittany, over and over again, and all it did was turn me into a liar in her last hours. But I can promise I will do everything in my ability to fight for them, and do all I can to protect them.

People lie

There is one thing that I am now an "expert" on. That one thing is grief. In all honesty I really know very little about it in general. My own grief is a whole other story. Yes, I'm an expert with that, but so many people grieve in so many ways, and I'm not about to say that one way is better than another. I only know mine. I have been asked to help with words of comfort for friends who know others that have had to deal with similar heartache. While I can't ever predict how these loved ones will handle their own pain, I am happy to try to help. I don't know if it ever has, or ever will. But I do hope that somehow, my own pain will be able to ease the pain for someone else. It would make Brittany's death a little less cruel. It would have a little bit of reason to it. I had a friend ask me again today how they can help with a sister's pain. This was my response:

"People say it gets better.People lie. Everyday gets worse. And everyday it's for different reasons. One day it will be because I miss her so much I can't breathe, another day it will because I see so much of what she is missing, and wishing so much I could be a part of what is now her life. Then another day it will be because it gets harder all the time to remember how she looks, and what her voice sounded like. Everyone handles this "situation" differently, and has different needs. Some might need to be left alone, others might need someone to stay strong and not cry so that they can cry freely and lean on them for strength. For me, I need people to not be afraid to talk about Brittany, and not be afraid when I cry. I need people to remember HER and all the little things about her. That leads me to what helps me. I need to feel connected to her. I have reminders of her everywhere I turn. I have an Eiffel tower hanging from my rear view mirror, and several in my classroom. I have owl jewelry and figurines. My classroom is decorated in teal, with quotes on the wall that I used with her. I have a necklace at her grave that has a heart pendant that has the words "with you" on it. I have an identical one that I wear. Willow tree's have become very sentimental to me with more meaning that I could have ever thought.

Don't fade away. You would think the very beginning would be the hardest part, but it's not. A few months down the road, she will start to try to figure out her new "normal". She'll look like she's doing good on some days, and will tell you she's "good" but she won't be. She'll be wanting to die herself. Keep talking to her even when she seems good. If she doesn't want to talk, don't make her, but let her always know you are there. If she facebooks much, and you happen to be up in the middle of the night and she's on, make sure she's ok. The lonely hours of the night when everyone else is sleeping and happy, and you can't sleep because you've been crying for hours, are often very dangerous times. In a very gentle way, remind her that as much as she would gladly die for any of her kids, she now has to LIVE for the rest of them. They deserve, more than almost any other child, to have a good and happy childhood with lots of happy memories. And lots of memories with her in them. she can't give up on herself, because she would never give up on her kids. I also find so much peace in music. I have lots of songs that I relate to if you want a list, let me know. There really is no way to take away her pain. Her son is gone, and can't come back. The core of her pain can't be eased because life can't be reversed. I hope that some of the suggestions and my own experiences can help some for you and your sister. One of the very best things I have gained strength from, are the friends I have made in people that have gone through similar heartbreaks. Several of them I have never met. They reached out to me, and we connected through our grief. If that is something that she feels would be helpful, i am MORE than happy to talk or text her anytime!!! Texting was always easier for me, because it was a little more disconnected. Having to form words, and speak them, sometimes was too hard to bare.

Again, this is just my perspective on how these last 10 months have felt. I am not trained on human emotions at all, except through what I have learned through my own life. What works, or feels right to me, might be completely wrong for someone else.

I wish it could be her too

 First day of school Kindergarten

School picture of her last year of school, 8th grade.

 Tomorrow marks the first day of school. I have already seen so many pictures of kids her age going to Freshman orientation, and schedules they have of the upcoming year. I can't help but think... "Brittany should be there!" She should be finding schedules, hoping friends are in the same classes, trying out for different teams and signing up for clubs. She should be wearing new school shoes, and laying out her favorite outfit for the first day. She should be getting her back-to-school haircut, and wondering what color to paint her nails.  Every milestone is a hard one, but this one stings a bit more. It's so hard to see her friends grow up and not have her join them in the ranks. I'm not trying to say I'm not so happy for her friends, because in a way I can watch her grow up through them. But on the other hand, seeing what could have been, what should have been, and yet what will never be, is so difficult for me to deal with.
Brittany's little sister, Kaitlyn will be starting 8th grade tomorrow. I don't know if I'm ready to watch her little sister outgrow her. As she finishes this year, she will have officially surpassed Brittany in education, she will have passed her up on many levels, and that is so hard to think about. All the firsts that I always had planned on being Brittany's will now be Kaitlyn's. I am so happy for Kaitlyn, and all that she has and will be able to do. But she will never replace Brittany, and I don't want her to. I want Kaitlyn to have her own memories, her own identity and her own life experiences. It just doesn't fit the "plan" that we naturally set up as our children were born.

At the most unexpected times and places

It's been just a little over 8 months since Brittany has passed away. When she died, it was in the dead of winter. The bitter cold and short dark days were reflective of how my spirit felt without her. As the days grew longer, and warmer, and the flowers began to bloom, there were more and more days... well, moments... of happier times. This continued through the summer. But this last week I have been able to feel the shift again. If you pay close attention, there is a change in the breeze. It's a little more crisp. The flowers I had at the cemetery have begun to die, their summer season being out lived. I have now replaced most of them with silk flowers. At the store, rather than finding bold, bright, vibrant colored flowers, there are more neutral colors preparing for the fall. This change in the weather is making me sad... It's just a reminder of how much time has passed. Before long, I will be writing on her one year anniversary of not being here with us. Oh, how I don't look forward to that day!
Today is the first day of school for Gateway, the school she was attending last year. I remember her first day of school so well. She wasn't happy to go at all, but there was still that excitement of everything being new. New shoes, new clothes, new pencils she couldn't wait to use, a new backpack, and the potential of everything being different that the year before had been. I was so excited and worried for her that day. It felt like dropping her off for her first day of kindergarten. She never knew I cried after watching her walk out the door to catch her car pool. And here I am crying again wishing I had that day back.
This last month we went to the Lacy family reunion. I knew it would be a difficult one for me, family gatherings always are. Every year we always do some kind of t-shirt. This year we had some made up that had Brittany's Peace Poster on the front, and the lettering for the back was specifically chosen as a the type of writing Brittany used to like to use.

It was a great trip, John and I had done some extra things with our kids before the reunion officially started. On our drive over to Blanding, we drove through Bryce Canyon, and then hiked Calf Creek falls.

One thing we have learned having Brittany pass, is that we need to take more pictures of all our family. There is a quote I saw recently that says "When someone you love becomes a memory, each memory becomes a treasure". That couldn't be more true. It hurts to know of so many times I could have/should have taken pictures of her that I didn't. I search and search, and I am so sad at how few pictures I have of her. So, now we take more. But every time I do, I am reminded that I will never be able to take one of her again.
As I was taking pictures throughout the days at the reunion, I started noticing something. There were hearts everywhere in so many things I saw. I have never been much of a "heart" person. I haven't liked heart jewelry, I don't use hearts in my decor. But Brittany did. A lot. The more I saw the hearts, the more I knew it was her way of trying to tell me she was with us. Looking back, it's almost like it started when I was searching for a signature to use under her peace poster. I wanted a perfect one, and I love that the one I found also had a heart with it.